


Ticking

by Pansychic27213



Series: Fanfic Transfers (2015 Edition) [18]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst?, Clockwork was lonely, Gen, I don't know if this is cute, Not supposed to be romance, Old fanfic transfer from Fanfiction.net, The OC is his new friend, They both know everything and nothing, This was a writing experiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 17:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pansychic27213/pseuds/Pansychic27213
Summary: There is something beyond Clockwork's vision, and it just stepped inside his tower...





	Ticking

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Published: 01/18/2015

**Ticking**

_THUD._

It was abrupt; unexpected.

Heck, it didn't even belong in this time stream or dimension!

She just appeared.

The author jumped out of her freaking universe and landed in the clock tower.

And she just stood there, staring.

Her hair was the color of chocolate, and her eyes shone like familiar emeralds. She wasn't anything special; another run of the mill fangirl from California, dreaming of being a big-time writer.

And she just stood there, waiting.

The Master of Time blinked as he heard sudden breathing. No; it wasn't possible. No one could have gotten in without him knowing.

But she was there.

And she was waiting. Patiently.

Silently.

Without expression.

In fact, only the sound of her landing and the accompaniments of her breathing even alerted the Time Master to her presence. He would have never known she was there.

Behind the purple cloak, the entity tensed.

She had appeared.

Out of no where.

And he didn't know why.

Or who she was.

Or where she came from.

She was just there.

Watching.

Rather expectantly, really.

She wanted him to move first.

And he didn't want to move.

Soft breaths and the ticking of clocks filled the room, suffocating the silence. It was almost peaceful.

Why did her breathing sound like it belonged?

It didn't belong. It shouldn't be there!

But it was.

And she was waiting.

"Who are you?" He questioned, doing nothing to mask the uncertainty in his voice.

"I'm the author. I seek Clockwork."

Her voice was void, empty of emotion.

Why did he feel so powerless in her presence?

How was she here?

Why was she here?

What did she want?

"I am he," the spirit replied, yet he did not turn to face the human girl.

Yes, girl.

She was only a teenager.

And here she stood.

In the tower.

With the Master of Time.

Said Time Master suddenly found himself unable to bear such silence. But why? He lived in this silence!

He lived in the ticking of the clocks!

It was her breathing.

It was strange; exotic. New.

And he loved it.

He wanted to hear more.

His red gaze drifted to the girl, ready to demand an explanation. Her eyes stopped him cold.

So much emotion behind that emotionless face.

Something desperate and unreadable, drawing him in.

"They say that those who harm the innocent are just as guilty as those who watch and do nothing to stop it," she monotoned.

Her words were like a knife to his core.

She knew.

Out of everyone he had ever met.

She knew.

And he didn't know how she felt about it.

But her actions spoke louder than any words could have.

The girl moved forward like lightning, striking the specter with deadly accuracy.

She slapped him.

She struck his left cheek.

Stunned, the Time Master merely lifted a hand to cradle the stinging cheek.

"That's for not helping the innocent," she hissed.

She knew.

And she resented him for it.

But before he could even think of protesting, her actions spoke for her again.

The nameless girl grabbed his cloak in tight fist. Again, shocked, the blue skinned ghost only stared at her with wide eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, her lips were crashing into his; waves of emotion rolled off of her body.

He was overwhelmed.

Breathlessly, she broke away, bright green eyes piercing into the darkness that had engulfed him for so long.

"That's for not helping the innocent."

She knew.

And she understood.

**Author's Note:**

> QUESTION OF THE UPDATE: What did you think? Good, bad, weird, some mix of the three? I feel like this was almost an attempt at poetry, but I have no idea anymore.


End file.
